


Where is Nick?

by RandamHajile



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/F, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-15 21:34:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5801002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandamHajile/pseuds/RandamHajile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a year and a half since Jamie Lorraine woke up in the Commonwealth, and since then she has encountered, befriended, and become entangled with many people and factions. But when her closest friend Nick Valentine is missing, she and her girlfriend Curie have to search the Commonwealth to hunt him down. Follow the mystery as they investigate his disappearance, and discover the trials Jamie has had to face in the past as her personal life and morals are revealed when put under pressure. CW for drug use.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. JUNE

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the first fic I've written in a long while... and probably the first substantial fic I've /ever/ written. It's not complete, but I definitely plan on finishing it. Seeing as it's around 15,000 words and I'm only about a fifth done, I hope this becomes something like... good. I used to be an editor for a writer friend and I've beta'd for a bunch of people in the past, so hopefully my writing skills on my own are up to snuff. If you have any constructive criticism I'd absolutely love and appreciate hearing it!
> 
> I wouldn't call this an angst fic just yet, but there is definitely emotional tumult in it. I hope no one's OOC, and that Jamie becomes an interesting character, and that there's enough intrigue to keep you reading. So, enjoy!

 

**JUNE**

 

Summer in the Commonwealth was a familiar feeling to Jamie. The air was thick and humid after a light rain, and the sun beat down relentlessly, baking the sparse grasses that dotted the wastes. It reminded her of the summers she had spent at her grandparents' home upstate in the woods. There was something about untamed wilderness that was just much more comfortable to her under the summer sun, and all she needed now was a few neighborhood kids and a game of softball to complete the mood. She lay on the ground polishing off a cigarette and nestled between the roots of a tree, its thin leaves providing an adequate amount of shade from the hot sun. That was something she had been pleased about—that in the summer the trees _did_ have leaves. The barren landscape looked a lot better with some greenery, even if it was scraggly and irradiated.

 

“So, how you feeling, kid?”

 

She had almost forgotten Nick was there, leaning quietly against the tree with arms crossed as she rested from the heat.

 

“A little better, I'm not that dizzy anymore, at least.”

 

At Nick's insistence, they had stopped for a rest after Jamie's gait had become wobbly from their travels in the oppressive heat. She'd wanted to push on back to Diamond City, but when Nick stopped her and leaned her against a tree in the shade, she'd found herself melting to the ground as he pressed a tin of purified water into her hands.

 

“Good, get a little more rest and we can go on. You know, just because _I_ can't get heatstroke doesn't mean you have to try and keep up.”

 

“Aw, but Nick,” Jamie protested, “you're so patient all the time, whether I'm sleeping or eating or whatever. Least I can do is not dawdle.”

 

Nick scoffed,

 

“You're no good to anyone if you're unconscious, or worse. I told you already, you need to do any of those things you do it. Besides, I've had plenty of time to run diagnostics and I've actually been getting some reading done, so don't you worry.”

 

Jamie rolled her eyes and took a last drag of the smoke before flicking it away towards some rocks.

 

“See Nick, you're so reasonable! How am I supposed to keep up with _that_?” Jamie said, sitting up a little against the tree.

 

“I think you're doing a fine job as-is. But if you're so concerned, then entertain me a little.”

 

He sat down next to her, sitting cross-legged, and threw her a curious glance with a raised eyebrow, or at least that's what it would've been if he had eyebrows.

 

“Well, alright.”

 

Jamie straightened her posture and stretched her arms over her head as she thought of what to say, the sound of rad cicadas buzzing their erratic tone in the air as a light breeze passed by, cutting through the heat.

 

“Hmm... ahh,” she finished stretching, “well, I was just thinking about how I used to play softball as a kid in the summer. I was always real big into baseball. I never missed a game when the team was in town.”

 

“Baseball!”

 

Nick smiled, his worn plastic face lighting up both figuratively and literally as his glowing eyes widened in delight.

 

“Now that's something I haven't talked about in a long, long time. The old Nick was a big fan of the game, I have to say. Last I can remember, the season was going pretty well.”

 

“Yeah!” Jamie piped up, “Gosh, we were at the end of the World Series! Things were looking good! You know Nick, the bombs fell the DAY before the final game.”

 

“What, really? Actually, I don't know. My—the old Nick's memory ends a few months before that. What happened?”

 

“Oh man, oh man, Nick,” Jamie shook her head, “I was so excited, Nate and I had tickets to the game. The Rangers were plowing through the competition like always, but the Sox had been making some real headway, they had a new pitcher—Matt Murtagh, everyone called him “The Missile”, he was going to be their secret weapon—first day on the mound for him! The game was gonna be something else, I swear.”

 

She let out a long sigh, looking dreamily into the distance and tapping her fingers on the ground.

 

“So Dusty Wilder was working out, huh? I think I remember hearing about negotiations to hire Murtagh. Sounds like a Hell of a time.”

 

“Oh yeah, Ol' Dusty really made the Sox a threat. Aw man, Nick, I'm so riled now. The day before, Nick, the DAY before!”

 

She threw her arms into the air at her last words and Nick gave one of his little laughs, like he always did when Jamie got ruffled.

 

“You're getting me worked up, too! Don't overexcite these old servos. But if there's anything we can take comfort in, it's that at least we know who woulda won.”

 

Jamie nodded, and they both spoke at the same time—

 

“The Rangers—”

 

“The Sox—”

 

A moment of silence as they looked at each other.

 

“You don't seriously—”

 

“You actually thought—Wait.” Nick raised his left hand, politely gesturing for her to stop.

 

“You're a _Rangers_ fan? Aren't you a Boston native? Listen, we might have some problems here.” Nick said, donning a playful scowl.

 

“Hoo, well, I forget that's a surprise.” Jamie ran her fingers through her hair and went on, “when I was about five I spent a few years in Texas living with my father—my parents were divorced, and while my mother went back to school I lived with him, and we sort of bonded over baseball. Ever since I've been a Rangers fan. But Nick, let's be honest, the Rangers are just... the best team. It's been 159 years since the Sox won a World Series, and even though they made it this far, there's no way they would have won. They always fall apart at the very end.”

 

“Actually, it's more like 359 years now.” Nick corrected.

 

“Oh, yeah. Well, you know what I mean.” Jamie said, catching herself.

 

“Yeah, but I'll give you this, Jamie—you got some real gall holding such a blatantly wrong opinion, but had fate aligned and they got to play that game, I know deep in my mechanical heart that there is no way the Sox would have lost.”

 

He gestured towards his chest with his right hand, sincerity in his words.

 

“Well Nick, I should have expected as much from you, but I can't say I still don't feel a deep sense of betrayal.”

 

Jamie crossed her arms and shook her head in feigned disgust.

 

“Same here.” Nick smirked, “I might have to re-think this partnership we've worked out. How can I even trust you anymore? It really is a damn shame we'll never find out who'd've won for sure. Maybe some reason woulda struck you when the Sox won.”

 

“Psh! Wait, Nick...”

 

An idea had started to brew in her head. Her face curled into a smile as the brilliance of it began to come together.

 

“Maybe there _is_ a way we can find out...”

 

“Oh?” Nick inquired, cocking his brow.

 

“Yes... Nick, stay on board here—” she put her hands on his shoulders, locking eyes with the synth, “ _you and I are going to hold the World Series._ You're going to be Dusty Wilder, and I'm going to be Daryl Wayne. We assemble our teams, train them, scout out a place for a field, and before the end of the summer we hold the deciding game. As one of the few people left in The Commonwealth who actually know the rules of baseball, this burden falls onto us, but it's our _duty_ to fulfill the legacies of our home teams. So what do you say?”

 

“Huh.”

 

Nick shrugged off her hands, placing one of his own on his chin in thought.

 

“That's quite the proposition you have there. That's a lot of a work.”

 

“If you can't get yourself together, I'm just declaring that the Rangers have won.” Jamie added.

 

“Well, when you put it that way, I can't let the Sox down, now can I? Sounds like you got a deal, Jamie.”

 

He stood up, offering his left hand to her. She grabbed it and pulled herself onto her feet.

 

“Great! We have until the end of the summer. If you see a good spot for a diamond make note. You better start picking your team soon before I get the best players. I'm going to take this very, very seriously.” she said, dusting herself off.

 

“Good. You know I'm no slacker either. This old synth's going to give you a run for your caps. And while you're in good spirits, let's get a move on and head back to the agency. It's going to be late soon and Ellie's expecting us.”

 

He motioned towards the distant ruins of downtown, Diamond City's walls just peeking up from the surrounding buildings.

 

“Yes! I'm feeling much better now. You sure know how to get me going, Nick.” Jamie said, picking up her pack of belongings from the ground.

 

“Wouldn't have it any other way.”

 

Another one of his synthetic smiles, and then they set off towards the far off rubble, the sun still beating at their backs as they went into the summer wastes.


	2. OCTOBER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fall. Jamie and Curie discover Nick is missing, and prepare to find him.

 

**OCTOBER**

 

“Hi, Ellie.”

 

Jamie strode into the Valentine Detective Agency, Curie right behind her shutting the door gently, the rusty hinges creaking a little as they entered the dusty office.

 

“Jamie! Curie! Welcome back. Been over a week. Case took that long, huh?” Ellie Perkins looked up from the file cabinet she was currently sifting through, her usual friendly smile greeting the two.

 

“Oh non, mademoiselle, the case, she took much less time than expected, it went quite well, I have joy to report!” Curie replied, clasping her hands behind her back and smiling in return.

 

“Yeah, it was a pretty routine settler kidnapping, point and click on the raiders and the settler was back at Somerville before dawn.” Jamie crossed her arms and looked over towards the hallway to the right of the room.

 

It'd been a while since Nick had left the group and she was looking forward to seeing that battered synth face again. If there was anyone in this salted land she could call her closest, most trusted friend, it was Nick. Well, other than Curie, of course. She and Curie were the best of gal pals. Just two girls traveling the wastes together. Real close friends :) They were GAY. But here Jamie was, her thoughts trailing off again as they did when Curie entered them. The matter at hand was Nick, and Jamie turned her attention back towards the agency. Jamie stepped towards the hall and past Ellie, peeking around the corner.

 

“Hey Nick! Get down here! We're back!” Jamie shouted into the hall.

 

...No response. Ellie looked over, her warm smile replaced with something else.

 

“Nick isn't here. I thought he was with you two.”

 

Quizzically, Curie answered.

 

“I am afraid you are mistaken, Miss Perkins, he has not accompanied us since one week ago.”

 

“We thought he was with you, Ellie. He's on a case now or something, isn't he?” Jamie asked.

 

“No... no, that's the thing, I haven't seen him since you three set off. He hasn't come back. Where is Nick?”

 

Suddenly Ellie's voice had urgency.

 

Ellie was always quick to worry, but with a job like hers Jamie couldn't blame her. A lot of waiting on precarious situations was involved in her work, which is why Jamie usually hated to leave her hanging. She'd always give advance warning whenever she was taking Nick for any real period of time, and liked radioing in every now and then. For a synth PI, Nick's self-scheduling was surprisingly erratic, and Jamie (mostly with the help of the ever-astute Curie) was always punctual in updates. They hadn't sent any in the past week, though. She assumed Nick would have been back before the day had ended, so she saw no need. It was no wonder Ellie already had the faint twinkling of panic in her eyes as she talked to the two.

 

“Well, he said he was heading back here when we finished. That was pretty much that. We parted ways and the last week Curie and I were working on the lab in Sanctuary.”

 

“Oh yes!” Curie started on, “I am so very pleased to report that the main laboratory now meets all pre-war safety and sanitary standards! Finally, I can begin my studies with no fear of sample contamination, and I already have several cultures growing to observe the rate of--”

 

“Curie.” Jamie interrupted, gently.

 

Curie had an amazing habit of trailing off at the slightest mention of scientific intrigue. It was one of the things Jamie really liked about her—that unbridled enthusiasm for life was something worth far more than any amount of caps in The Commonwealth. It was grounding, in a way, but at times Curie needed to be softly reigned in, such as now.

 

“Oh, yes, of course, I am sorry! Mr. Valentine, yes, he left us one week ago. He has not appeared since?”

 

“No, he hasn't been here and he hasn't radioed either. Where exactly did you two leave him? Did he say anything about going somewhere else? Did he mention other cases or errands? I hate it when he does this...” Ellie crossed her arms and tapped her foot.

 

“Ellie, Ellie,” Jamie walked over to her and held her hands, “don't worry, we'll find him! I'm sure this won't take long. I've pulled him out of worse, remember? You know my dog's a hell of tracker too, so it's just a matter of time. Just tell me anything you know that might help.” she smiled and let go.

 

“Jamie... thanks.” Ellie took a deep breath, “You're right. I'm always so jumpy, but ever since you got Nick out of that vault, I should know better that he's in good hands. I wish I had more to tell you... but I have nothing. You and Curie have been amazing for the agency, you know, so we haven't had a backlog in a while, so I can't think of anything he'd have gone off to sniff out...”

 

“Hey, I do my best. And come on, knowing Nick, some kid probably asked him to find their lost puppy and he's halfway to Hartford by now.”

 

“Oh yes!” Curie chimed in, “there is an empirical precedent for such behavior, why I was with him and Jamie at Vault 81 when we set off to find a lost housecat! Mr. Valentine is kind, and resilient, and I am sure all is well. But in the meantime—”

 

She turned to Jamie,

 

“We must find Mr. Valentine! Come, Jamie, if there is no more data to gather here, we must set off at once! And Miss Perkins, make sure to eat regularly and stay hydrated, as well as get at least eight hours of rest each night! Stress can take quite the toll on the human body, and I do not wish to see you in any ill health!”

 

If Curie sometimes got off track, when she was on it she knew just what to say. Jamie could already see Ellie brighten. She wanted to leave her on a good note.

 

“Yes, thank you, you two. I'll be here organizing files, as always. Hey, when you find Nick, can you tell him _again_ to put the folders back after he's looked at them? You know, in the _right_ cabinet?”

 

“Yes—”

 

“Yes, mademoiselle! Now, we must go! Tout de suite!” Curie grabbed Jamie's hand, and with the other opened the door, tugging her along outside into the bright Diamond City afternoon.

 

The sunlight was a sharp shift from the agency's hazy air. Diamond City's tinny, wet smell replaced that of the office's cigarette smoke and dusty papers, bringing her back into the reality of the situation. Curie still held her hand as they stormed off, but despite how much Jamie loved holding onto Curie in any context, she still felt a deep, pensive frown furrow her face. As much as they liked to jest at Nick's nature, he really wasn't one to go off the map like this without at least some sort of warning. In the year or so since Jamie... defrosted... and entered The Commonwealth, she'd spent a lot of time with Nick, and thought she knew him pretty thoroughly. It hadn't been easy... but once he entered the picture, things started to take a turn for the better.

 

Her first week awake had been Hell, she thought back. She had spent it in a daze, lying in the wreckage of her house, crying mostly. There was no heat, no real bed, no medication, no good coverage from the wind or rain—absolutely nothing to indicate that this shanty used to be her home but the collapsing facade and some faded but familiar furniture, and one other guest. Her old Mr. Handy Codsworth was still miraculously functioning,and was life-saving then. He kept her hydrated and fed from neighborhood scavenge, and safe from the mutated creatures that had taken up in the area, all with his completely cheery attitude. His demeanor didn't help make any of it feel more real. Sometimes, in the twilight between sleep and consciousness, she'd hear his voice, and an incredible relief would wash over her because everything must have been a dream, and here was Codsworth, probably about to bring her and Nate some morning coffee and the paper and an update on how well Shaun had slept.

 

Obviously that didn't happen, and despite her misery, she eventually found the strength in herself to take up the 10mm pistol she had found and set off into the wastes. Next thing she knew she was defending Preston Garvey and his crew from a Deathclaw in Power Armor, and since then everything was constantly unreal and _unrelenting_. Mutated bears, raider gangs, Supermutants, giant deadly mosquitoes, scorpions the size of a small horse—it had turned out thrusting herself into the thick of it was the best way to cope. She was in shape, and the weekends at the range she had spent with Nate meant she knew how to handle a gun, and god damnit, she went to college! Her steady aim, smooth tongue, and the head on her shoulders had proved invaluable in the wastes. She was surprisingly adept at handling 2287, and the sheer alien nature of it all had overwhelmed her so much, it was hard at times to think of the past at all. The constant adrenaline and danger had kept her going as she wandered, so much so that the sheer sensory input made her barely notice being off her meds. It was easy to exist in constant denial of reality when at every turn something unreal occurred. Well, until she met Nick.

 

She of course, had eventually found Diamond City, then Piper, then Ellie, then... Nick. After having wandered The Commonwealth aimlessly for a few weeks she had decided that if what happened was real, if she wasn't just completely insane or dreaming, then Shaun would be out there somewhere. He was the only thing real, the only person left from her past. She'd have to find her kidnapped child. If there was no Shaun... then she was safe, she thought. Maybe she had a stroke and died in the night, and this was some kinda purgatorial trial to punish her for her worldly sins. Or she had an aneurysm and was in a coma, lying in a bed at Medford hospital, Nate devastated but he and Shaun ultimately safe... and... _alive_.

 

At first, Nick didn't help her grasp at reality. Whenever she looked at his yellow eyes and battered plastic face, she questioned where this strange delusion had come from. What odd internalization of some life event had manifested as this kind-hearted machine-man? Nick, being Nick, was sharp though... and it didn't take long for him to realize what Jamie was up to. She remembered it clearly when it first dawned on him...

 

**SEPTEMBER**

 

They had been tracking Kellogg with Dogmeat and had stopped to rest for the night, and Jamie had built a campfire and laid out her bedroll in the wreckage of some cute little colonial style house. Just outside,Dogmeat was napping away in what Jamie felt was a comically-intact doghouse. The sky was cloudless, and the stars overhead were brighter than she ever remembered, no light from downtown choking them out. She could hear crickets over the crackle of the fire, but not like how she remembered either—they were definitely crickets, but their pitch had... changed. The radiation, probably, as it had changed everything else. Nick was across the fire, sitting with his legs crossed in what was probably once a nice chaise lounge, looking up at the stars too, the fire and smoke from his cigarette casting a haze around the area, his bright eyes piercing through it as he lay in silhouette.

 

“They're something, aren't they? The stars?” he said, still gazing up.

 

Jamie stayed silent.

 

“It doesn't take a detective to know that you aren't getting a wink right now.” another swirl of smoke as he spoke.

 

“...They're just... so bright.” Jamie said, near a whisper.

 

“Astute observation, there. But you're right.” he took another drag. “Light pollution is a term I'm sure only a handful of people even know anymore, you being one of the privileged few.”

 

Jamie let out one of those soft, breathy laughs.

 

“Yeah, how special. I just... they're all the same. I didn't think they'd be the same.”

 

“What, the stars? Last time I checked the only one lucky enough to get bombed to Hell was the one we're on right now.”

 

He looked down towards Jamie, his bright gaze unmistakeably shifting.

 

“Well, yeah, but... they're all still here. I remember them all, somehow. I didn't think I would. Or maybe I just THINK I do. But there they are, completely normal... the north star, the dippers, over there is Virgo. I'm a Virgo, you know. If that's a thing that even really exists...”

 

Nick dropped his finished cigarette to the ground and put it out with his heel and blinked a few times, his eyes almost like a strobe through the last of the smoke wafting away.

 

“Now, you don't... Oh... Oh my. Where do you think you are right now?”

 

“Here, at this fire, with you.” Jamie rolled over, lying now on her side, facing Nick.

 

“No, I mean... where do you _really_ think you are...?”

 

Jamie sat quiet, hesitant to comment. She hadn't exactly felt comfortable airing her opinion to people that they and everything around them were nothing but an elaborate delusion, but Nick... something about him made her feel like talking.

 

“...Purgatory. Or Hell. Haven't quite figured that out yet. Or a hospital bed. Or maybe a nice padded room at Parsons State. None of this is real, Nick. Shaun isn't here and that's why none of this is real, I'm sorry.”

 

It just made sense to her.

 

“Oh...” Nick's voice softened, she could see his face more clearly now. His plastic expression fell.

 

“I knew you were coping _too_ well... when I asked how you were doing, back at Diamond City, I knew... Jamie...”

 

He got up from his seat, and as he sat down slowly next to Jamie, she sat up to meet his eye level. She was curious now. Nick was usually pretty stalwart, but the way he said her name... it had gotten her attention.

 

Nick looked right into her eyes, meeting her gaze, something that caught Jamie off guard—one of the synth's quirks was that he never really was good at eye contact.

 

“Jamie... listen to me. This is real. I know... it's hard to believe, trust me, _I know_ , but... this is real. This is what's happening... we're in the Commonwealth, and it's been 200 years... everything _we_ —you knew, it's gone. This smoking ruin is what was left to us by the world.”

 

Jamie shook her head a little, her hands shaking now too.

 

“No... no, no. It's impossible. It's impossible, Nick, it's impossible. For Christ's sake Nick, earlier today we fought a glowing giant two-headed deer! I've seen green thunder and I've felt its radiation prickle across my face, I've seen men's heads on pikes outside raider camps... I've seen...”

 

She paused,

 

“I saw Nate, die... and I saw Shaun, taken... and... other than them, there is nothing, _nothing_ here that's even _close_ to reality, and we haven't found Shaun and I don't think we ever will, because NONE. OF THIS. IS. REAL. I am just biding my time until I wake up and snap out of it, and I appreciate everything you've done Nick, I really do, but I'm killing time here.” she snapped at him, her intensity surprising even herself.

 

“No, Jamie,” Nick put his left hand on her shoulder, “I know you want to think it's not real, but it's real. And I know from traveling with you, that you Jamie, are a real good person—a rare sight, honestly—and inside of you, you know that out here somewhere is your son, Shaun, otherwise you wouldn't be here. You know it's real, and you know he needs you, and I am here to help you Jamie. It is all _real._ ”

 

“No, no...” more than Jamie's hands were shaking now.

 

God, dear god, no, he couldn't be right, he couldn't. Tears started to well in her eyes as she breathed faster. There's no way, there's...

 

“It's going to be okay...” Nick said, again in that softened tone.

 

His quiet words, they pulled at something fragile inside Jamie—she felt like she had been waiting to hear them for a long time. God... he was right... this wasn't Hell, no, it was worse than that because it was REAL. And this whole time, this whole time she'd been carrying on as if it wasn't, the happy thought of her family, safe and alive, driving her to continue, to survive long enough to wake up and meet them again—but he was right, she wouldn't have tried to find Shaun if... she didn't know. That meant that everything, the bombs, the vault, Nate getting shot, Shaun getting taken...

 

“It's... real...”

 

The first sob burst out of her as her chest heaved. And then she was weeping into Nick's coat, his arms wrapped around her as he rubbed her back.

 

“It's okay, let it out, now. I'm here.”

 

That continued on for a while—Jamie couldn't tell how long, the fire's sparking and the crickets mixed with her echoing sobs in the rubble. She could still remember the feel of Nick's steady arms around her, his smell of cigarette ash, dusty garbadine, and faint copper clear to her senses even through her tears. Nick had waited for her to calm down and then the rest of the night had listened and talked softly with her as she recounted the past, about Nate, about their home and life, and about Shaun, and everything else she had lost. That night had been the end of Jamie's denial, and Nick was there to help her through the rest of the stages of grief. It was around then she had started to realize what Nick meant to her. He was just an honest to god good, solid person, and she valued every moment, every second of their friendship. When Nick had finally admitted his own past to her, she made him her priority like he had done for her, and together they hunted down Eddie Winter and closed a rough chapter in Nick's life, side by side. Now this was all months ago, and they had found a steady partnership in solving the agency's cases, helping out around the wasteland, and sleuthing out the mysterious Institute. Not to say that there hadn't been a very fair amount of tumult in Jamie's life since then (god there was), but the constant in it all was that Nick was there to help.

 

**OCTOBER**

 

Needless to say, Jamie was worried by his absence.

 

“Here we are!”

 

Jamie was snapped out of the memory by Curie's birdsong voice. They had walked over to Home Plate, where Curie was now busy clearing room on the corkboard next to some of her auxiliary lab equipment, delicately filing away her notes and clearing counter space, before taking up her notepad and clipboard and turning to Jamie.

 

“We will be logical and efficient! Before we set off with Dogmeat, let us write down all the data we have. I have push pins and string! We can create one of those research boards, like Mr. Valentine has in his office! It is not a scientific organizational method I am used to, but in this scenario I feel it more appropriate, non?”

 

Jamie gave a half-hearted smile. Curie deserved more enthusiasm, but Jamie was truthfully more preoccupied about Nick than she had wanted Ellie to know.

 

“Sounds good to me.” Jamie responded.

 

“Oh... you are not feeling so well, are you not? You have much worry, don't you, for Mr. Valentine?” Curie asked.

 

“Yeah, I just... have a bad feeling about this, you know? Anyone disappears in The Commonwealth and it's usually HIM finding them, but now WE have to find him.” Jamie sighed.

 

“Ah... my love, worry not! We have done amazing things, and I am sure we can find him! Yes?”

 

“Yeah...” Jamie nodded.

 

Curie scoffed and stomped over to Jamie, throwing her arms around her shoulders and pulling her into a kiss. Curie was arguably French, but she knew how to give a real French kiss, alright. Just as Jamie leaned in and laid her hands around Curie's waist, Curie popped back and smiled wide, looking into Jamie's eyes.

 

“Hmm? Yes?” she asked again.

 

“Yes!” Jamie sung back.

 

Curie was truly an unending fountain of inspiration. Jamie envied her pep at times but was always so very, very thankful to be able to experience it. When she had first sprung a chatty and curious Miss Nanny robot from vault 81, she had no idea how attached she was going to end up to it. Through a series of events she still considered miraculous and convoluted, Curie had then become a gen 3 synth, and that's when Jamie's heart began to flutter around her in ways she hadn't prepared for. After that, things just started to fall into place. It was just natural.

 

“Now! The data! Let us begin with the facts we know.”

 

Curie bounded back to the corkboard, poised and ready with her pen, notepad, and clipboard. For a moment Jamie's mind wandered as she eyed Curie's slim figure. She really drove her wild in ways she hadn't even known were possible. She was so... smooth, and delicate, but also so fierce? Behind Curie's bright eyes and soft lips lay a passion that touched something inside Jamie she hadn't felt in a long, long time. Ever since Curie, Jamie found herself asking more questions, seeking more answers, working harder—she never imagined she'd find pillow talk about chemical reactions and protein synthesis to be so engaging. If she hadn't been pressured into law school Jamie would have favored herself a good pre-med student, and Curie's work (well, now THEIR work, since Jamie was learning fast as her assistant) was more stimulating than textbooks on copyright law ever was. But she brought herself back to focus on the situation—another skill she had to thank Curie for. It wasn't just the meds, being around someone as procedural as Curie had taught Jamie new ways to organize her thoughts.

 

“Well,” Jamie crossed her arms and put her hand on her chin, “we left him at the Somerville Place Settlement after escorting the kidnapped settler home, right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And he said he was returning to Diamond City, while we went north to scavenge for your lab and return to Sanctuary.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“So his route would have taken him northeast...”

 

“Yes! Let me get the map...” Curie opened a drawer and pulled out a map of The Commonwealth, pinning it to the board.

 

“Okay, so, let me pull up my Pipboy and let's go over everything notable he would have had to pass...”

 

“Of course!”

 

“Let's see here... really not a lot, actually. It's almost a completely clear shot up. If he stayed near the waterfront at all he might have passed the Egret Tours Marina... he might have skirted around the Coast Guard Pier and the Fairline Hill Estates. Possibly Hardware Town. All longshots, though...”

 

“Noted and marked!” Curie peeked over at Jamie's Pipboy and marked the areas accordingly on the map, her delicate fingers making neat little X marks.

 

“Next, we shall think, what other data is there possibly for us? Perhaps Mr. Valentine spoke of something useful?”

 

“Hmm... honestly, you know it's like Ellie said, we were pretty up to date on cases and as far as I know he didn't have anything hanging he wanted to take care of. As for enemies... well... maybe Skinny Malone changed his mind and went after him... but that's a long way from Goodneighbor to set up any kind of ambush... or maybe a Brotherhood platoon mistook him for hostile and abducted him for research. Other than that, there's always raiders, supermutants, feral ghouls, you name it.”

 

“Noted!” Curie had written down each possibility with a question mark, before tearing off the page and pinning it to the board. Not like Jamie doubted she wouldn't just remember it all anyway. In a lot of ways she still thought like a robot, and her synth brain and its cybernetic enhancements lent itself to that level of retention.

 

“However, you are missing one possible culprit...” Curied went on.

 

“Oh, don't say it...”

 

Jamie knew who Curie was going to bring up. The thought brought a lump in her throat.

 

“The Institute. We cannot discount their involvement, non?”

 

Curie was right, as much as Jamie didn't want to think about it. Ever since she discovered and infiltrated the Institute, she might have had the occasional nightmare or two about a Courser from the SRB coming to get Nick for “reclamation”. Honestly, if it wasn't for Nick, Jamie was unsure how she'd feel about the Institute. Finding the Institute had complicated a lot of things in Jamie's life... the first major shock was that the son she had been searching for was actually a grown man, and the leader of the very organization which Jamie had hunted down as villains for his kidnapping. As overwhelming as it was, when she first saw Shaun and understood who he was, she felt... done. Here he was. Suddenly so many things seemed to matter so very little... and when he offered her a place in the Institute, her first instinct was to wholeheartedly accept the invitation. She had been living for months basing the entirety of her life on the premise that she would do _anything_ to get her son back. She didn't think much of the future, really. Having that one goal drove her to continue, and it just seemed completely natural that once she had accomplished it, _of course_ she would help Shaun with _anything_ he asked.

 

But Jamie's clarity was very short-lived. It wasn't long until after that she saw her first unmasked Gen 2 synth inside the Institute. A lot of them, the guards mostly, wore helmets. But as she was walking down the clean, shining halls, she finally saw one. It turned the corner and started walking past her, and her heart skipped a beat.

 

_It had Nick's face_.

 

It walked silently, staring at nothing, until it neared her before sharply turning, its robotic voice buzzing out a platitude about how 'it is an honor to be in your presence' before it continued along, just as before. She knew Nick looked like other Gen 2s, she had fought them before, but they were always scrapped by her gunfire before she could get a real look at their faces. This one, this one was close, and it spoke to her, and suddenly she felt nauseous.

 

It was that day she started to walk a very dangerous, very fine line, a line which also happened to go along the Freedom Trail. The Institute would have to be stopped, she had decided, and yet... despite rising rapidly in the ranks of The Railroad, she still found herself at the Institute every Friday afternoon, 3:00 on the dot, having tea with Shaun on his terrace overlooking the main pavilion. Jamie told herself she was a double agent, but when she was there and tasting the clear air, the freshness of the trees, and chatting with Shaun about his life, hers, Shaun's father, before the war, philosophy, science, the arts, almost anything, really, things just seemed... okay. _She loved Shaun_. As much as she wanted to feel guilty for that, she just couldn't. She was his mother, and she gave herself those afternoons. She was truly proud of the man he had become—wise, strong, so, so intelligent... but also _wrong_. Tea time always had to end, and when it did, Shaun was still wrong. So Jamie kept running synths for the Railroad and kept doing small ops for the Institute, and found an equilibrium. She could have her tea time, and she could still help the resistance.

 

This delicate balance only served to make the prospect of the Institute going after Nick something she very much did _not_ want to think about, _especially_ now that Curie was in the picture... With all of Jamie's high-profile escapades around the Commonwealth, she knew she must have put them on their map again, and did as much snooping as possible around the Institute to make sure there were no plans being made for either.

 

“You're right Curie, we can't discount the Institute. I suppose I can investigate that if nothing turns up.” Jamie replied finally, after some thought.

 

“Noted!” Curie chirped.

 

“In the meantime, let's gear up and retrace Nick's possible path from Somerville.”

 

“Yes, lovely, let us! I will begin to pack right now. Do not forget your medication!”

 

“With you around, how could I?” Jamie flashed a smile at her.

 

She totally had forgotten, she thought, but luckily Curie reminded her. She owed so much to Curie, her current stability being the most major part...

 

Curie then put down her clipboard and flitted away to the other side of Home Plate, and began going through the ammunition in the storage bins. Jamie stayed, looking at the corkboard, the map before her suddenly feeling very large. They might have their work cut out for them...

 


	3. JUNE AND HANCOCK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer. Jamie begins to scout talent for the team.

 

**JUNE**

 

“No, really, I'm serious, Hancock! We're going to play baseball!”

 

Jamie dropped the sack of baseballs she had been holding on the roof of the old state house, a bat she was now leaning on in her other hand. Across from her stood Hancock, his signature red frock coat draped over his bare shoulders, having forsaken his shirt in the summer heat. He leaned against the central tower of the building, arms crossed.

 

“Baseball... that's some old-school Americana right there. And here I thought when you brought that sack of baseballs and the bat and said 'come to the roof now'you wanted to fool around.”

 

Hancock's sly, chapped ghoul smile spread on his face, his tricorn hat casting his black eyes in shadow under the noon sun.

 

“Honestly, literally any other time, probably yeah, but not right now, Hancock. I'm on a mission, and by extension, so are you.” Jamie said.

 

“Well, to the first part, that's a damn shame. As for the second, what are you conscripting me into now, huh?” he asked, raising one ghoulish brow.

 

“Alright, well,” Jamie launched off, “it started a few days ago. I was coming back from that case with Nick, right, and we got to talking baseball—Hancock, you should talk to some of the pre-war ghouls here sometime to get a sense of how nuts we all were for baseball. Like, the world was about to end and we all knew it, but we still cared about baseball, right? We just didn't give a fuck. Anyway, we were talking about the world series—”

 

“Are you going to get started on this world series thing again? You've literally cried to me about this already. You know, actual tears. All over me.” Hancock interjected.

 

“Look,” Jamie gestured at him with her free hand, “there was a lot of jet and booze involved in that night, I honestly don't remember much of it and I'll dispute some things but okay, you know how emotional I can be, but that's good, you already know how much this means to me. So anyway, yeah, we were talking about the world series. You know the bombs fell the DAY BEFORE the deciding game?”

 

“Oh, do I!”

 

Hancock put a hand on his chest and another on his forehead in a dramatic flair before continuing on, throwing his voice high.

 

“Ooooh, Hancock! Hancock! The DAY BEFORE! It's SO SAD, Hancock! The daaaaAAaaay before! I had TICKETS, Hancock!—”

 

“Alright, alright!” Jamie cut him off, “I get the gist. I'd like to say that doesn't sound like me but then I'd be lying. So continuing, I definitely remember telling you about Nick's weird memory thing, so it shouldn't come out of left-field when I say that he's a Sox fan. But I'm a Rangers fan. So naturally we started to debate over who would've won the world series, but there is just no definitive way to ever really figure that out, right? But then it hit me—as clear as the crack of a good ball on a bat—” she clenched her fist, “ _we would host the world series_. He'd be Dusty Wilder and I'd be Daryl Wayne. So now we have, at latest, until the end of summer to get our teams together, train them, hunt down a diamond, and schedule a game. So, let's find out how your batting arm is, Hancock.”

 

“Wow.”

 

He cocked his head a little, looking at her. Jamie pouted at his curt response.

 

“You think it's silly, don't you? You've never—baseball is something you wouldn't—I _know_ you'd at least make a good batter, and I—”

 

“Hey, hey hey, relax. I was just taking in the view. You're so cute when you get fired up. I'm on board, love. You're getting a little scattered again, though. C'mere.”

 

Hancock beckoned for her and then pulled out a jet inhaler from his pants pocket.

 

“Let's chill out a bit, yeah?” he said, taking the first drag of the inhaler and blowing out a thin, fast line of vapor.

 

“Yeah, good idea.” Jamie replied, putting down her bat and crossing over to him.

 

“Hey...”

 

He grabbed her waist, pulling her up close against him. Jamie smiled, the familiar feel of his rough ghoul skin under a hand that she slowly ran over his chest. He took another drag of the inhaler and puffed out a perfect vapor ring in front of Jamie's face, then leaned through it to peck a kiss on her lips. She could taste the rest of the jet in his breath.

 

“Bullseye.” Hancock grinned, handing the inhaler over to Jamie.

 

“Ooh, that's a new trick. I like it.” she grinned back, taking a deep inhale of the jet, the world slowing a little.

 

“Thought you would. You polish that baby off, and then let's get back to America's favorite pastime.”

 

Jamie nodded and leaned away, taking another drag of jet, and as she exhaled watched the vapor in front of her swirl through sunbeams, this time slower than the first. Hancock got up from against the central pillar and shrugged off his coat, and then strolled towards the bat and baseballs, picking up the former and giving it a few wild test swings.

 

“Your stance is terrible.” Jamie said, her words flowing out with the last of the inhaler's vapor.

 

“Well then Mr. Wayne, give this friendly ghoul a little guidance.”

 

“Gladly.”

 

Jamie pocketed the empty inhaler and went behind Hancock, placing her right hand over his own hands on the bat, and her left on his left elbow.

 

“Your elbow's too high, and you're holding the bat too low. We're not breaking knees, here. Speaking of knees, bend yours a little and widen your stance, but keep your feet parallel.”

 

She gently guided him into the right pose and then stepped back, admiring her work.

 

“Mmm, I like a lady who knows what she's doing.” Hancock said, waggling an eyebrow at her.

 

“And I like a man who can hit a home run. You ready?” she said, stepping back and taking a baseball from the sack.

 

“For you, I always am.”

 

“That's nice.” she gripped the ball and turned sideways, entering her pitching pose, “Batter up!”

 

She pitched the ball, Hancock swung, and WHAM! The crack of it against the bat rang out across Goodneighbor and sent a shiver down her spine, the ball flying out over the town's walls and out into the commons.

 

“Yow!!” she jumped giddily, “that's at least three bases there, I tell ya!”

 

“What can I say, I'm a natural.” Hancock responded, a toothy grin spread out over his scarred ghoul face as he put the bat behind his neck and leaned his wrists over it.

 

“This is going to work! This is going to work!” Jamie shouted, Hancock's grin somehow getting wider.

 

Already, a solid batter on the team! This is going to work, she thought ecstatic, everything's going to work out!

 


	4. OCTOBER MORNING

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Curie set off to retrace Nick's path, and discover a troubling lead.

 

**MORNING**

 

After some rest, Jamie and Curie had set out just before dawn. Diamond City was always eerily empty in the earliest hours, and when Jamie had knocked on the door to Publick Occurrences to get Dogmeat, the noise echoed through the stands. Whenever they were in Diamond City, Jamie would toss a few caps at Nat to 'dogsit' Dogmeat, an arrangement that came about after Piper had mentioned how often Nat would ask her if Jamie was in town, and more importantly, if she brought _the dog_. Nat had answered the door, bleary eyed and half awake, and Jamie could see Dogmeat behind her, his ears perked and tongue lolling out of his mouth happily at the sight of his owner. He sat on the little doggy bed Nat had made for him out of some old blankets, looking at the doorway.

 

“Aww... Jamie... it's not even morning... you're here already?” Nat said, rubbing her eyes.

 

“Yeah Nat, I need Dogmeat, sorry to have woken you up so early...” Jamie responded in a hushed voice.

 

“You don't have to be all quiet, Jamie, Piper would've slept through the Great War. Hi Curie!”

 

Nat waved at Curie, a little more awake now.

 

“Hello little Wright! I too apologize for the disturbance, but we are in need of the dog.” Curie said back.

 

“Yup... Dogmeat! C'mere.”

 

At Nat's beck, Dogmeat jumped up and headed towards the door.

 

“Aren't you a good boy, yes you are, yesssss you are.”

 

she knelt down and hugged him, rubbing his fur as his tail wagged fast, and then turned her attention back to Jamie.

 

“I took good care of him, miss!”

 

“You always do,” Jamie slipped her ten caps, “now head back to bed before Piper finds out I'm bothering you before dawn!”

 

“A growing young lady such as yourself needs much sleep!” Curie added.

 

“Yes'm!”

 

Nat looked down and starting counting the caps in her hand before closing the door.

 

Now with Dogmeat in tow, the two headed off into the early morning quiet, leaving downtown and heading towards the more wooded southwest. Most of the raiders in the city were passed out at this hour anyway, usually after drinking heavily or jetting hard, and the dark kept them well hidden from ferals and supermutants as they crept through the rubble and detritus the city had become. The fall air was chilly in the mornings, and Jamie was pleased to see her breath disappear as the sun rose, long westward shadows being cast by the half-dead trees and wreckage dotted across the landscape. Once they had cleared the last of the city's rubble, Jamie knelt down next to Dogmeat.

 

“Arp!” Dogmeat barked, tail wagging, always so expectant of Jamie.

 

“Alright boy, listen up, I need you to find Nick. Niiiiiiiick. You remember him, funny eyes, trench coat, right boy? Well, here's a reminder...”

 

Jamie pulled out a trench coat belt from one of the pouches around her waist on her combat armor. It had belonged to a coat given to Jamie as a gift after she had first rescued Nick, the trench taken undeniably right from his closet, a humble gesture of solidarity that had really struck Jamie as a surprise at the time. She had folded the coat neatly and stowed it away with its matching hat. She didn't think she had earned the right to wear it yet, and so it lived these past months in a metal box that had found its way to Home Plate, and hopefully still had Nick's scent.

 

Dogmeat sniffed it excitedly before looking up and around, then slowly moving forward, sniffing the ground, and going around Jamie and Curie in a circle. After a minute or so, Dogmeat stopped and looked at the two with his head sideways, then sat down.

 

“Ah... I do not believe the canine has caught any scents.” Curie spoke.

 

“Hmm, not yet, at least. Let's keep heading southwest, towards the estates.”

 

As they continued on the sun rose higher, a gentle warmth rolling across the scarred landscape while the fall breeze still brought a chill. Dogmeat trotted alongside them, sniffing at the ground or a tree or a rock occasionally, but not finding much. Finally the two topped a hill and looked down towards Fairline Estates, which laid below them. It was a neat little circularsuburban block; morning mist coated the large empty roundabout and the sun pierced through it, revealing six small houses in silhouette and aruined playground in the middle of them all.

 

“Wait, love, below...”

 

Curie unclipped her binoculars from her belt as Jamie kneeled down, pulling her silenced .50 sniper rifle off her back. Dogmeat hunched down and gave a low growl.

 

“Mmm... two of the yao guai species, one at three o'clock, and another at eleven o'clock. They seem smaller than the usual archetype, perhaps they are somewhat stunted? If we were not on a mission I would ask for samples, you know.”

 

“Well,” Jamie began, “I mean, we probably could... just a few marrow samples, maybe a small amount of blood for hormone analysis, possibly a brain sample...” she trailed off once she noticed Curie staring at her, a patient look on her face.

 

“Love.” Curie said.

 

“Ah, hmm. Yes.”

 

Jamie took aim.

 

“Lovely. I of course, oh, how do you say it, “have your six”?”

 

“That's exactly right.” Jamie smiled, she loved Curie's grasp of English.

 

She took aim, a clear bead on the unaware beasts, right between one's glossy eyes. A muted 'bang!' and the first fell, the second jerking its head up and looking around wildly, the sound of the shot echoing through the hillside.

 

“Ah, a small bit off center this time, to the right, my love.”

 

Jamie gave Curie a lot of credit—she was the best damn spotter she ever had, better even than Nick. Curie's attention for detail could find a needle in a razorgrain stack at a glance, and buying a pair of binoculars was a massive boon to the duo. It just worked so instinctively, like a lot of things about the two. Jamie preferred a quiet, tactical approach from a distance, and Curie was the eyes and ears to her deadshot aim. They'd picked off whole raider camps before from distant cliffs and rooftops, and as much as Jamie knew Curie disliked violence, she also knew Curie kept tabs on her hit percentage and calculated their time efficiency in clearing spaces, amongst other figures. Every now and then when Curie deemed they'd reached a statistically significant increase in their proficiency, she'd excitedly report the new numbers to Jamie. Last update Jamie had a 97% accuracy rate with her rifle.

 

“Hmph. Watch this one.” Jamie held her breath.

 

This bullet hit completely square between the eyes of the confused yao guai, it dropping just as unceremoniously as the first.

 

“Yes, marked improvement! Now, we must be off.”

 

Curie started down the hill, Dogmeat sprinting ahead to sniff at the yao guais, curious. Jamie followed, returning the sniper rifle to her back but also drawing her .44 pistol. The wide, open circle made her on edge as the houses and trees ringed it like quiet onlookers. It reminded Jamie of some old photographs she had found in a medical textbook she scavenged for Curie—of early surgical amphitheaters surrounded by detached students. Curie must have felt something off too, because she drew her shotgun as she approached the center. Jamie caught up with her, Dogmeat sniffing around the central playground, poking his nose around rusted monkeybars and broken swings.

 

“Where are all the people?” Curie asked.

 

“A good question... I'd say as well-preserved as these houses are, this place is pretty indefensible and isolated. It's why we didn't move here...” Jamie muttered the last part.

 

“Oh? This neighborhood was a possible site for one of the minutemen settlements?”

 

“Ah, no, I meant, before the war. Nate and I... we looked at some of the houses here, actually. We decided it was just too isolated and too expensive.”

 

“Oh, _before_...” Curie's voice quieted.

 

“Yeah...”

 

It was truly strange looking at the neighborhood now, and thinking of the what-ifs. If they had moved here, they would have never made it to a vault...

 

“But in the end, we chose Sanctuary Hills. Well, “chose” might be too generous a word... it was more like our _only_ choice. Housing costs had gone up so much, and the house we got was at a huge discount thanks to a publicity stunt Vault-Tec did for veterans. Now that I look back on it, I think they were just selecting the best guinea pigs for Vault 111...”

 

Jamie frowned, and Curie moved next to her.

 

“Well, I am most glad they did, because now you are here, and so am I.”

 

She reached over and grabbed Jamie's hand, squeezing it.

 

“That's true, that's true. You're never wrong, Curie.” A smile eked its way to Jamie's face, peeking through her previous dismay.

 

“Ah, you flatter me so!”

 

“Arf! Arf arf!”

 

Their moment was broken by Dogmeat barking, his body now pointing towards one of the houses.

 

“What is it boy? You got a scent? Go boy, go!” Jamie commanded, and Dogmeat sprung off.

 

He darted into the house barking more and Jamie and Curie followed, guns raised. As they entered the threshold, a gasp escaped Jamie's mouth.

 

“Oh my, there has been quite a fight here...” Curie said as she stepped forward, pouring over damaged surfaces.

 

There were laser blast marks all over the parlor, charring the walls and floor. Bullet holes riddled the wall opposite most of the burns, and the furniture was upturned in angles that must have been fresh judging by the direction of the old rot on the mangled upholstery. Dust kicked up by their feet swirled in the air, lit by the sun coming through the doorway and the far windows beyond the kitchen past the entryway. Dogmeat gave a whine, sniffed some more, and then darted up the stairs to the left of the entrance.

 

“Lasers...” Jamie said aloud, the facts clicking into place slowly.

 

Curie followed Dogmeat upstairs as Jamie ran her hands over an upturned lounge chair; it looked like it had been flipped for cover and the side facing outwards with the legs had been charred badly, the wall behind it damaged too with the unmistakeable ashen bursts that remained after laser fire. .45 shell casings dotted the floor around it.

 

“Jamie! Jamie, please, with haste, come!” Curie called from upstairs, her voice high.

 

Jamie raced up the stairs, pistol raised, only to see Curie and Dogmeat kneeling beside a desk, between them on the floor a very familiar battered fedora...

 

“It's... Nick's.” Jamie choked out, holstering her pistol and coming towards the hat.

 

She picked it up gently. There was no mistake. It was his.

 

“Oh no... Mr. Valentine, he would never leave behind his beloved hat...”

 

A thousand terrible thoughts flooded Jamie's mind. There were a million ways, hundreds of people who could have torn him apart, robbed him, maybe sold his parts for caps, or worse. She clutched the hat hard to try and stop her hands from shaking. No, no, she needed to gather herself. She spent almost a year working with a detective, and she'd be damned if she didn't learn anything from that. She wouldn't disappoint Nick.

 

Jamie took a deep breath and surveyed the room.

 

“Neither downstairs nor here were any of his... parts, so whatever happened to him, he must've been intact. There's .45 casings downstairs, which is the same caliber as his tommy gun, and the bullet holes on the wall are consistent with something rapid-fire. His attackers were armed with laser weapons, and took him alive.” Jamie stated, firmly.

 

Curie had been nodding along as Jamie had talked,

 

“Yes, noted, so, we can come to the logical conclusion that whomever attacked Mr. Valentine was affiliated with either The Brotherhood of Steel, or The Institute. But, Curie asks, why? Why do such a thing?”

 

Jamie's eyes came back down to the hat in her hands.

 

“The Brotherhood wants to collect advanced technology and learn about the Institute, and the Institute... the Institute just wants their _property_ back.” She spat out the last few words.

 

“This is most troubling... I have much worry for Mr. Valentine... what are we going to do, Jamie?” Curie asked, hesitantly.

 

“Hmm.”

 

Jamie had to close her eyes and think for a minute. Unless raiders, Gunners, or Supermutants suddenly had a taste for laser weapons, the Brotherhood of Steel and the Institute were really the only possible culprits. She didn't look forward to investigating either. Jamie had actually joined the Brotherhood a while back—even now she was wearing one of their skintight flight suits underneath her jacket and armor (it was comfy, and Curie once said it 'accentuated her rear', so naturally it became her favorite piece of clothing). But once Jamie got a hold of a Brotherhood power armor, her interest in them had dwindled significantly, and she had been distracted by other more... disastrous matters in her life. She still ran ground ops for them semi-regularly to ensure her membership wasn't rescinded, but only simple stuff like tech retrieval or clearing out ferals.

 

She felt guilty about it, actually. The Paladin who had initiated her, Danse, seemed to have such high hopes for her service, and truthfully she only joined because he had sparked her interest. She thought she had a good little friendship going with him for a while, even. He was at _the game_. He wasn't necessarily a bad person and honestly was refreshing company, so Jamie legitimately regretted letting him down, but at the same time there were always more pressing matters to attend to. Ultimately she also never agreed with their philosophy—she just wanted some of that sweet Brotherhood steel. Shallow reasons, really. But when someone like Danse holds out their hand and offers camaraderie and high-tech death metal, how could you say no? Their friendship suffered once she got her power armor, that's for sure. Since then running a few ops every now and then to maintain the bare minimum requirements on her was an easy matter, and any allies in the Commonwealth were valuable. But still, heading back to the Prydwen and asking Danse for potentially delicate information was not a conversation she was eager to have.

 

Either way, that conversation would be a million times easier than having to explain to Shaun that her best friend—a gen 2 synth—was missing, and that she suspected the Institute as his captors. Or worse, having to explain to Justin Ayo, the head of the Synth Retention Bureau, that she needed classified knowledge on a reclamation.

 

“I'll head to the Prydwen and see what information I can gather from the Brotherhood. Curie, I'll go with you to Sanctuary so I can pick up my power armor, and there you can ask Preston for help sending out alerts about Nick and keeping an eye out for any groups that might have recently been adopting laser weapons.”

 

“Of course my love, I will begin planning patrol routes now. Let us depart for Sanctuary.”

 

Jamie nodded at Curie and looked again at the hat in her own hands. She didn't think she had ever purposely touched it before. She had seen Nick take it off every now and then, but it was _his hat_ , and Jamie never even tried to playfully swipe it. There was just something unsettling about seeing it apart from its rightful owner, but now was not the time to be bothered. It wouldn't do her any good worrying. She was determined to return the hat to where it belonged, but until then...

 

She took the hat by its crown and slowly raised it, seating it on her head, and with both hands she adjusted it by the brim. It was a surprisingly good fit. Dogmeat looked up and gave a curious whine while Curie tilted her head at Jamie.

 

Flatly, Jamie spoke.

 

“Curie, I swear, I'm going to return this hat to him. Until then, it's not leaving me unless I'm handing it back to Nick. You got that?”

 

“Noted! A symbol of perseverance, good for the psyche!” Curie chimed.

 

Jamie hoped so. It felt strange, wearing the hat, but also somehow... proper. After one more quick search of the house that turned up nothing more, the three set off for Sanctuary.

 


	5. OCTOBER EVENING

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Curie reach Sanctuary to update Preston Garvey on their situation before Jamie sets off for the Prydwen.

 

**EVENING**

 

“Missing? Nick?”

 

“You head me right, Preston. He's been gone at least a week. All we found was his fedora at the Fairline Hill Estates. We could use some Minutemen eyes out there to help find him.”

 

“Well, that explains the hat.”

 

Preston Garvey straightened his posture and drew his laser musket from his back. The gun's red glow was one of many in the settlement, Minuteman patrols dotting the area along with lights from the various houses burning against the twilight, all wired along power pylons leading down to the waterfront where the wind farm was set up.

 

“I'm on it, General. I'll contact the Castle and start broadcasting alerts right away.”

 

“Thank you, Preston. Curie'll get you up to speed on the situation. I have other leads to investigate. She can stay in Sanctuary and help coordinate the search effort. Curie?” Jamie gestured towards Curie.

 

“I will, as you say, take it away! Mr. Garvey, I shall explain it all.” Curie answered, as exuberant as ever.

 

The two walked away down towards the river where the town's transmitter was hooked up to a string of wind turbines along the water, Curie already in a whirlwind of a speech on the day's events. Jamie watched them go down the hill before she turned her attention back towards the town.

 

Sanctuary had become quite the civilized little settlement. Last Jamie had checked there were almost fifty people living there, all working hard to make Sanctuary a livable place. Wood cabins had sprung up around the refurbished suburban ruins, and the central roundabout, down the street from where she stood, had become the main market. They were in the process of refurbishing the town's plumbing, and every house had electricity. Next to The Castle, Sanctuary was the most well-established Minutemen settlement. Despite the war, Jamie found herself preferring Sanctuary like this. It was... more homely.

 

Before the bombs, when she and Nate moved in, the adjustment from downtown Boston had been abrupt and difficult. Jamie became pregnant, and that's when Nate and her family had drawn the final straw and insisted they move out to the suburbs. The urban life was improper for a child to be reared in, they all said, and with all the ration riots Jamie had to reluctantly agree, so they found themselves in Sanctuary Hills after applying to Vault-Tec's Veteran Assistance Program. At first it seemed like their luckiest break yet, but after moving in, Jamie always felt tense. The copy-paste welcome dinners, the oft-repeated “thank you for your service” taglines that constantly greeted Nate, the neighbors always _watching_. You couldn't sneeze in Sanctuary Hills without it becoming the subject of the chatter around next week's knitting circle. It reminded Jamie of her first years in college, and she hated that feeling of constant scrutiny and socially-obligated niceties. She had no secrets to hide from her neighbors, but no matter how friendly they tried to be, Jamie was still on-guard.

 

Nowadays, Sanctuary Hills existed on genuine camaraderie. The Minutemen took turns patrolling it and answering flare calls from nearby towns for help. They guarded the caravans and the provisioners, and the rest of the citizens either practiced crafts, were merchants, farmed, built up the town, or scavenged. It was a bustling place, and was somewhere she strived for people to make real lives for themselves. She wanted to see families live there. It was only a matter of time before she started seeing children, she thought.

 

Jamie also fought hard to make sure the Minutemen settlements were free of paranoia. They had a synth infiltration ONCE, and only once. The synths were put down fast after pulling guns on Preston in some kind of haphazard assassination attempt, and from then on Jamie made sure that every settler had heard of The Railroad, and that if a synth wanted to escape, Minutemen settlements were about the best place to begin. After that, unsurprisingly, they had no more synth problems.

 

She always enjoyed strolling through Sanctuary Hills, and the sight of the lights and people bustling against the setting sun was as close to picturesque as the Commonwealth could get for her. Soon she was at the workshop in the center of town, where her Brotherhood power armor stood in its stand, right where she left it. She took a power core out of the metal box next to it and smacked it in, the sound greeting her of the armor's systems booting and gears creaking to life. It was a long way to the Prydwen, but at least she'd have some steel under her feet to carry her there.

 


	6. OCTOBER NIGHT AND DANSE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie reaches the Prydwen and confronts Paladin Danse for information about Nick.

 

**THE NEXT NIGHT**

 

Hailing a vertibird onto the Prydwen was the easy part, especially while Jamie was in her Brotherhood power armor, although she did get a few strange looks for having a battered fedora clipped to the waist of it. Now, talking to Danse and getting most-likely classified information from him? It wasn't going to be an easy task, but Jamie had some valuable intel and put a lot of weight into her bluffing. Still, she hadn't seen Danse in months, let alone come near the Prydwen. She had some hopes for the Brotherhood, but after meeting Elder Maxson and hearing his 'wipe out the synths and ghouls' speech, she knew the Brotherhood wasn't the place for her. Honestly, if it wasn't for Danse's expectations and the moderate guilt she felt for just taking such a sweet set of power armor for free, she might have just skipped out on the organization altogether. But here she was now, still technically a member since she did regularly run them minor ops (mostly for the caps), and the Prydwen was just as she remembered it. The engine's hums permeated everything, a permanent undercurrent to conversations, meals, sleep, everything on the massive dirigible. The power armor-clad knights almost seemed to blend in with the vessel's gunmetal-grey interior halls, and the tinny smell of oil, rust, and steel pervaded the whole space. Scribes and Astlins hurried by Jamie in the entryway outside of the vertibird docks in a whir to get to the next mission. Jamie called out to one of them as she scurried by her—

 

“Scribe! Excuse me, but where is Paladin Danse?”

 

The scribe, a young dark woman, stopped for a moment squinting at Jamie before hurrying along again. That was rude, Jamie thought, she'd have to find someone in less of a—

 

“You are in need of me, Knight?”

 

A voice from behind. Jamie whirled around, Danse standing in front of her in all his tin-can glory. Same haircut, same stubble, same tone of voice.

 

“Danse, it's me.”

 

Jamie reached up and slid off her T-51 helm, a faint 'tssss' let out as the helmet depressurized.

 

“Knight Jamie?” Danse said, a twinge of surprise in his voice.

 

“Yes, I'm back. I need to talk to you about something sensitive.”

 

Danse paused for a moment, mulling over her. Jamie wasn't exactly sure what was going across his stoic face, but she could tell he was choosing his next words carefully.

 

“It's been exactly two months, one week, and three days since you last reported for duty on the Prydwen.”

 

“I—well, I didn't realize it had been _that_ long. Danse, can we speak somewhere more... private?” Jamie asked, lowering her voice just a little to a pitch she deemed sufficiently grave.

 

“I don't know, Knight, should we?” Danse said back, his expression unchanged.

 

He wasn't exactly giving a warm welcome, but Jamie couldn't blame him.

 

“Danse,” Jamie made sure her next words were clear and precise, “I know you expected a lot from me. I wanted to live up to what you saw in my potential, but I couldn't do that here in the Brotherhood. Since I was last here, some... _personal_ things happened to me, and I wasn't able to give my full time and attention to you. That doesn't mean I've been idle, though. If your recon's any good at all—and I know it is—you know exactly how busy I've been. I have some valuable information that the Brotherhood will want. But I'm only willing to share it with you, and _only_ you. I just ask for a little privacy, some time, and some answers in return. You know I'm honest, Danse.”

 

He stared at Jamie, a few tense seconds of eye contact seeming to stretch much longer than they were.

 

“Follow me to the forecastle.”

 

Before she knew it he was off, tromping away in his power armor towards the bow. His heavy steps managed to both clank and glide effortlessly, and Jamie struggled to keep up without tripping over her own armor's feet, the rest of the Prydwen passing them by as she focused on keeping her legs straight while jogging in tow. She still had a lot to learn about power armor, and maybe, she thought, if she had stuck with the Brotherhood, she'd have learned about it by now...

 

With a whiplash of cold sea air they exited the interior and went out onto the forecastle's platform, a flimsy railing between them and a long drop to a hard concrete airport runway. As much as she disliked heights, when she let out a gasp it wasn't at their elevation, but at the Commonwealth spread out below them in the night, various points twinkling in the distance amongst the ruined metropolis. She could see Diamond City far off and brightly lit, other damaged buildings with various peeps of brightness, and furthest away, the acrid luminescence of the glowing sea. Above it all, the stars shone brightly. No light pollution, she thought. How lucky she knew that term...

 

“It's breath-taking, isn't it?” Danse spoke, looking out past Jamie, “I always come to the forecastle when I need perspective. It reminds me what I'm fighting for with the Brotherhood. Every one of those lights out there is either a person who needs our protection, or raider and mutant scum that need to be eliminated under our collective heel. I'm dedicated to the Brotherhood's code of ethics because out there, before us as you see, the Commonwealth needs those ethics, and I and all my brothers and sisters are here to help this godforsaken land. So tell me... Knight Jamie, why are you here?”

 

Finally he rested his gaze back on her. Jamie stood firm, her posture as good as she was able to manage in the power armor.

 

“I think, ultimately, I'm here for the same reason as you, Danse. I want to help the Commonwealth. I'm just going about it a different way. You must have heard about my work with the Minutemen. We're making the Commonwealth livable again... but you and I, we still have a common enemy that looms over us all.”

 

“The Institute.” Danse said.

 

“Hit the nail on the head. They're everywhere, Danse. Don't think for a minute they don't have someone on the Prydwen _right now_. That's why I'm talking _only_ to you. You never know who could be a synth.”

 

“Understandable. Continue, Knight. I'm listening.”

 

“Of course. Well, as the General of the Minutemen, I haven't been idly standing by and letting synths infiltrate my settlements. I've been after the Institute, and I've run into other groups who share our distaste for them, and in my investigations I've found the secret to their operations. But before I can tell you what I've discovered, I need something in return from you, Danse.”

 

“You have my interest. What do you need of me?”

 

Despite being the same height in their armors, Danse still managed to tilt his head up slightly in a way that gave the impression he was looking down on Jamie. She didn't recall him like this, but then again couldn't blame any current disdain. She continued on—

 

“Some information, about a certain synth detective who resides in Diamond City. You remember Nick Valentine, don't you?”

 

“Unfortunately, yes. I remember it.”

 

 _'It'_. Jamie internally winced at Danse's description of Nick. Whatever warm feelings she had from his little duty speech managed to flit away. But, she had to press on.

 

“Yes, well, the Institute's been getting bold with all this recent snooping around, and he's gone missing. What I need to know from you is if the Brotherhood picked him up, otherwise the Institute has him, I'm sure.”

 

Danse's stone expression curled slightly into a frown.

 

“What you're asking for is information that would be classified. I'm not at liberty to discuss our anti-Institute operations with a mere Knight, let alone one of your standing.”

 

Jamie knew Danse wouldn't just tell her what she wanted, but that didn't mean she didn't have more to say—

 

“That's reasonable. But I think you might change your mind when I tell you that if he _was_ taken by the Institute, he can lead us directly to them. I just need to know if I'm barking up the wrong tree here before I give you the intel that can help the Brotherhood get inside the Institute and take them out for good.”

 

Danse narrowed his eyes before speaking.

 

“That's an awful lot you're promising, Knight. How do I know I can trust you?”

 

“Again,” Jamie went on, “a reasonable thing to say. Well, I'll tell you the Institute's secret right now, and just listen carefully to what I have to say—the way they get everywhere silently and instantly? How Institute synths seamlessly snatch people and infiltrate communities? How one minute you can be patrolling the ruins and the next, out of nowhere, you're fighting a squad of synths? They've discovered molecular disintegration and reconstitution, or in layman's terms, _teleportation_.”

 

“Teleportation?” Danse said, incredulously, “You expect me to believe your word on that?”

 

“Don't believe just my word, Danse! Believe the evidence around you! You've fought plenty of synths by now. They just... appear! You turn a corner you just cleared and there they are—or people get replaced by synths without ever leaving their homes! There's no way the Institute can run an operation that silent, that clean, without teleportation. No stealth tech is _that_ good. If they can create machines that perfectly mimic men, is this so far-fetched?”

 

“Teleportation...”

 

Jamie could see Danse's brow furrow slightly as he was processing what she had to say.

 

“...It would explain a lot.” he finally said, continuing, “but that is still a great amount I have to take solely on your word. I'll need to discuss the possibility with our technologies division before I'm willing to divulge anything to you.”

 

Ah! She almost had him, she swore. But in this house of cards she was building, she had a trump card.

 

“Well, Danse, I don't have time for that. The window of opportunity here is shrinking rapidly. But you don't have to just take my word alone. I have a gift for you, and the Brotherhood.”

 

Jamie walked forward towards the end of the forecastle's platform, the wind whipping her hair around her face. She set her helmet down on the ground and hit the power armor's interior switch to disengage, and stepped out of the machine as it cracked open with its pneumatic hisses. Turning around, she came back towards Danse before reaching into her bomber jacket and producing a thin stack of papers that she gripped tightly in the wind.

 

“Look here.” she had to hold them up to him, no longer at eye-level now that she was out of her power armor, “I found a rogue Institute scientist in the glowing sea. He gave me schematics to reverse-engineer the Institute's teleportation device, and now I'm giving these schematics to _you_. This is serious science, Danse. Just look at this.”

 

He leaned forward slightly examining the blueprints, and Jamie continued.

 

“I'm giving you this completely in good faith, because I know that the Institute _must_ be stopped, and I know the Brotherhood has the resources to get this off the ground, which is why I _need_. _to. know_. if you have Nick Valentine, because otherwise this is useless.”

 

“Useless? How?” Danse asked.

 

Hook, line, and sinker, here he was!

 

“Useless because without a destination, teleportation doesn't do _jack_. Valentine, as a synth, has a built-in tracking chip for teleportation purposes that can only be activated by this machine and his access codes, which I have. If you have Valentine, there's no point to this, so just tell me now whether you got him or not, and if you do have him, for the love of God, set him loose so the Institute can finally pick him up and we can take them out for good.”

 

Jamie folded up the schematics neatly again as Danse crossed his arms, his armor clanking as he brought them together.

 

“So... you were using the synth as bait?” he said, something in his voice that Jamie hoped was recognition.

 

“Smart move, Knight. This is why your lack of initiative within the Brotherhood has been a great loss to us, but I see now that you were correct, and have not been idle while we were at work. I am not a scientific expert, but I can see that those schematics aren't for amateur tinker-toys. With such a generous sharing of information, I will tell you that your plan can move forward, as we do not have the synth in question in our custody.”

 

 _Of course they didn't._ A lump formed in Jamie's throat. She had been hoping that it would have been as easy as asking nicely for them to release Nick, but of course they didn't have him. She knew this all reeked of the Institute, but even still, held out hope that Nick was safe in some Brotherhood holding cell. Now that hope was dashed, and she had to move forward with her plan to find him.

 

“What's wrong, Knight? Does that news trouble you?” Danse asked, sensing her sudden shift in mood.

 

“No, no, not at all. It's just, this is a big step, Danse. This is the beginning of taking down the Institute. It's not going to be an easy road. I'm not hesitating, I'm just realizing what we have ahead of us.” Jamie said, catching herself.

 

“Knight Jamie, with the Brotherhood behind you, you have an army of brothers and sisters willing and able to support you, even die for you. You might not be as public a figure within our ranks as I had wished, but I appreciate you coming to me with this information. You're always welcome within the Brotherhood of Steel, and I hope this is the beginning of a more extensive relationship of mutual cooperation between you and I, and the Brotherhood.” Danse said, delight and determination now in his expression.

 

Jamie had to admit, despite Danse's total disregard for synths, she still had a soft spot for him. He was so very, very earnest and straight-forward. He really believed in what he was talking about. It was almost jarring compared to the hungry, jaded soldiers she knew before the war. Something about Danse's honesty at one point made her eager to help the Brotherhood, or more accurately, _him_. If things had gone differently after the game, she probably would have stuck around longer, but it's hard to maintain a friendship when you're not around. Even so she didn't take much joy in lying to him, but his approval still tickled her. It was genuinely comforting to know that if all else failed, the Brotherhood was there as a last resort, and with her plan set in motion, she could tap on them anytime if she needed.

 

“Thank you, Danse. That's why I'm here. I know the Brotherhood of Steel is a dedicated group. I hope someday we can build the Minutemen into an organization that has as much fierce loyalty as the Brotherhood, but in the meantime, we will work together more, Danse, I promise. I'll keep strengthening the Minutemen, and you and your scientists can work on those schematics. Contact me once you've got something built, and we can discuss what to do next.”

 

She gestured the schematics up to Danse, which he took carefully and tucked in underneath the neck seal in his armor, the movement somehow elegant despite the steel surrounding his hand and arm.

 

“Exceptional. I will do so with pleasure, Knight.” Danse said after finishing the motion.

 

“Good. And Danse...” Jamie paused a second, giving herself a moment to switch gears, “I really am sorry, for not being around. I like to think that we were friends once, you know... I can't make any promises now, but maybe sometime in the future, that can happen again...?”

 

Danse wasn't the type to get caught off guard, but he did take a moment longer to respond than she had expected—

 

“Jamie... that sounds most agreeable, Knight. Ad Victoriam!”

 

“Ad Victoriam!”

 

They had parted soon after. Danse had even pulled some strings and gotten a vertibird to take her all the way back to Sanctuary. Jamie was glad she had finally given Danse something good to report about her to his superiors. Turns out she was a good investment, after all... well, at least as far as he knew. There were several key pages missing in the schematics that Danse wasn't aware of. Jamie rode the vertibird in silence, her helmet in her hands as she let the air sting across her face, the sound from its rotors filling her ears as the Commonwealth filled her eyes below, still twinkling in the dark. Buildings and rubble whizzed by, and every now and then she thought she saw a speck move amongst the light, people just tiny shadows from her height.

 

That bluff had gone amazingly well, she thought, and now she had a backup plan against the Institute that she could clock in if she needed to, plus she had started to patch things up with Danse... of all her bluffing, she really hoped her last bit wouldn't turn out to be a bluff too. In the meantime, the Brotherhood would be struggling with the schematics for a while, and if she needed their help she could simply return with the missing pages, claiming that Minutemen scientists had figured out how to fill the gaps. It wouldn't be difficult for her to get a hold of more Courser chips, and then she and the Brotherhood could—ugh, she was getting ahead of herself again. She had to remind herself that this was merely a worst-case scenario contingency plan, and that she had gotten what she needed from the Brotherhood: confirmation that they didn't have Nick. Nick...

 

She didn't know if it was the wind in her eyes or the pit in her stomach that made her tear up. The Institute had Nick. She was sure of it. She doubted Curie and Preston had found out anything otherwise, which meant she'd have to investigate this on her own, personally, within The Institute. The Railroad wouldn't be of much help in this, either. For now she was flying solo, and knew she had some difficult crossroads to pass through. Her face was wet as she clenched her helmet tightly, her tear-blurred vision turning the stars into a streaky blanket across the sky.

 

This was it, she thought. She couldn't escape it forever... the delicate neutrality she had been walking was about to be shattered. This was it.

 


	7. JUNE AND THE DIAMOND

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer. Jamie gets some hired help for the team.

 

**JUNE**

 

“Are we there yet?”

 

“Yes, actually Maccready, we are.”

 

The two stood on a hillside that overlooked an empty expanse of dirt, dotted with some sparse grasses but otherwise barren, save for a sizable swarm of bloatflies that hovered around it, gathered by a dead wild brahmin. Jamie shifted the strap on her shoulder that was attached to a long duffel bag, letting it slough off of her and onto the ground with a loud thud. Maccready gave a skeptical glance at the bag before pulling his binoculars off his waist, looking out at the field.

 

“Geez, place is loaded with bloatflies. Is this why you hired me?” he said, casing out the insects below.

 

“Partially, yes...”

 

Jamie knelt down, unzipping the bag, and Maccready continued.

 

“250 caps to pick off bloatflies? Lady, you should've hired me sooner.”

 

He put back his binoculars and grabbed his sniper rifle off his back, about to take aim below. Jamie heard him slide in a few rounds but didn't turn away from the bag, as she was carefully unwrapping its contents.

 

“Woah there, cowboy. Put the gun away.”

 

He lowered his gun to glance at Jamie.

 

“What? But the—”

 

“250 caps says I can do what I want with you. Now...”

 

Jamie stood up, holding the contents of the duffel bag—one nail-spiked swatter in each hand. Maccready squinted, eyeing the two weapons.

 

“Swatters? You're not seriously thinking—”

 

“That's exactly what I'm thinking. How's your batting arm? You a fast runner?”

 

Jamie offered one bat out to him, but he still held on to his rifle.

 

“I mean, don't get me wrong, you're right, you paid me and you got me. But 250 caps doesn't buy no-questions-asked. Why don't we just pick 'em off from far away?”

 

Jamie smiled.

 

“Hmph, you're chatty for a merc, Maccready. I like that. The answer is there's no sport in that, and I need to see how much sport you got. I know this might seem weird, but trust me, if you're any good I got something fun planned for you.”

 

“Uh, alright. Whatever you say, boss.”

 

He returned his rifle to his back and took the bat, tentatively raising it before looking back at Jamie.

 

“Listen, uh. I'll do weird, stuff, it's not my job to question that, and don't get me wrong here, it's _not_ like you're _not_ an attractive lady or anything but, I don't do any sexual stuff, if that's what you're—”

 

“ _God_ , no! Maccready. Head out of the gutter and into the game, here. Besides, I'm taken. Look, this'll make sense in a bit, let's just get this dirtpile cleared, okay?”

 

She raised her bat now and took her best batter's stance.

 

“Phew! Okay, sure. About a dozen dead bloatflies, comin' right up!”

 

He mimicked her, gripping his bat confidently now.

 

“That's the spirit! Baaaaaaaaatter up!!”

 

Jamie charged down the hill, Maccready following, swatters in the air and ready to strike a blow on the mutated bugs. The dumb insects barely had time to notice them before they slammed into the group, Jamie to the left and Maccready on the right, bats swinging. Jamie got the first hit on a bloatfly in the center of the leftmost cluster—her momentum hit it hard and with an awful gushing noise it instantly burst into several pieces when it met the fine cedar in her hands. In a similar fashion Maccready began to divide his portion of the swarm, swinging his bat down on a bloatfly and sending it slamming into the ground. At the sudden invasion of their territory the rest of the bugs began to disperse a little, surrounding the two more evenly, their awful buzzing wings sounding off in harmony.

 

“Ah, no! Don't pound them, let's get some distance! Watch!”

 

Jamie darted towards the next closest bug, swinging her swatter and caving in its head, sending it flying out and away from them.

 

“Woah!” Macready said, watching the wrecked bloatfly whiz away into the distance.

 

“Aaaaand Jamie takes first base!!” she yelled, ducking some larvae that the other flies had began to launch at her.

 

Maccready then weaved through some of the larvae fire, getting to his next bug, this time following Jamie's instructing and whacking it flat on its side, the insect sent sideways to the ground where it hit and split apart, smearing a long splotch.

 

“Ah! Ground ball! You can do better than that!” Jamie shouted at him while she nailed another bug, this one also exploding on contact, sending its putrid yellow guts spewing away from the bat.

 

“Just watch me!” Maccready answered, lining himself up straight with a fly and charging right at it, swatting the larvae it launched at him out of the air with his bat before he cracked into it and hit it away, the poor creature only managing about 20 feet before slopping into the ground in a puddle.

 

Jamie shook her head, whacking another bloatfly and then calling over to Maccready.

 

“Let's try something else! This is called 'bunting'!”

 

She held her bat sideways, one hand on the handle and another gripping it around its far end just below the nails.Facing off with one of the remaining flies she used it to block the larvae coming at her, jogging towards it before pulling the swatter against her chest and then thrusting it out with all her force, crushing the bug's exoskeleton with a gloopy crunch and skidding it along the ground.

 

“Bunting, huh?”

 

Maccready copied her approach but with much more speed, managing to block the projectiles at a full-on sprint before barreling into the last of four flies, this one managing to burst for him.

 

“Yeah! Foul ball!” he shouted.

 

“Ah, that's not really...” she trailed off, shaking her head again as she panted, the fighting beginning to wear on her.

 

“Hey Maccready, finish them off, impress me!” she yelled at him, leaning on her swatter and catching her breath.

 

In the hectic mess of the battle she didn't realize just how _fast_ Maccready was. He darted off to the next bug and bunted it into oblivion like the last, before eyeing the remaining two flies, guarding against their larvae and encircling them.

 

“This'll be so cool, don't look away!” he said, finally having lined up the bugs to his satisfaction.

 

He sprinted again, another burst of speed despite the heaving of his breath in his voice. He winded up his bat and cracked into the first fly. It flew straight horizontal, whacking the second fly dead center, both bursting like disgusting water balloons.

 

“Touchdown!!” he cried, clenching his free hand into a fist and raising it into the air.

 

“That's not...” she stopped herself when she saw him jog over to her, beaming.

 

“What'd I say, boss?” he huffed, “A dozen dead bloatflies, served to your liking. That was pretty fun!” Maccready managed to pant out between breaths.

 

He put a hand on his hips and leaned his bat over his shoulder, still grinning. Jamie met his brightened demeanor with her own grin. He'd definitely work out, she thought.

 

“Glad you enjoyed yourself! I think there's gonna be a lot more where that came from, although a lot less messy.” she said, shaking some bloatfly guts off of the nails of her swatter.

 

“Oh, that's right! What'd you mean by all that?”

 

“Well,” she put her hand on her chin, “you can't hit distance for shit, but you got some legs for sure. I could definitely use you on the field. Congratulations Maccready, you're a Texas Ranger now.”

 

“Great! A Texas Ranger, huh? Never heard of that operation before. Is there good caps in it?” he said, suddenly more eager than before.

 

“Well, I haven't given too much thought into monetizing it, but that's actually a decent idea—oh yeah, the team. See this field we just cleared? It's going to be a diamond. _A baseball diamond_. I'm getting a team together for a real important game, and you're up to snuff.”

 

Maccready blinked a few times.

 

“...Baseball? Lady, are you serious?”

 

Jamie looked him right in the eyes.

 

“ _Dead_ serious. Now we gotta get this brahmin carcass out of here and clear some of this grass. I have some measured twine in my duffel bag and some bases to lay out. Soon I'll have a full team and we'll have to start practicing.”

 

He raised an eyebrow and squinted before just shrugging, smiling again.

 

“Well, alright! This might be just about the best job I ever worked. I'm in, Captain!”

 

“Coach.”

 

“Coach!”

 

She'd have to get him up to speed on the rules, but she was sure he'd be a fast learner. With him, that was 7 out of 9 players, AND a field finally secured. Nick was gonna eat his hat for sure... just two more players to go, she thought. Two more to go.

 


	8. FRIDAY MORNING

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fall. Friday morning in the dark AMs. Jamie shares a moment with Curie and discusses what their next step is.

 

**MORNING**

 

Jamie had gotten the vertibird to land about a half mile south of Sanctuary. She didn't want to wake everyone—it was around 3am when she landed and it didn't take long before she slinked back through the crisp night air and into the settlement, greeting the red-eye shift guards and heading to the cabin she'd built for herself by the riverside, to the right of the wind farm. It was very purposefully located—ever since her first week awake, she'd never stepped foot back into her old home, and this spot was about as far as possible from it. Some other happy family can sleep there, she thought.

 

Outside amidst the noise of the river and whatever night critters remained this far into fall, she peeled herself out of her power armor and parked it by the door before quietly entering the cabin. She took off her boots, leaving them next to another pair on a mat beside her. It was a rather small space—one room, more crowded than she had originally intended after she found a need to put in a double bed. Some scavenged paintings of rustic landscapes were hung on the wall, and a neat mauve square rug was laid over the wooden floor. She had some knick knacks and bric-a-bric she'd found on top of her dresser and on some shelves, mostly bobbleheads and other artifacts like the golden grasshopper off of Faneuil Hall, which had a shelf to itself on the rightmost wall. She was really going for that 'homely summer cabin' vibe and had even managed to salvage an old-fashioned wood-burning stove for the place, but like everything, the realities of the wasteland shined through when she put up her gun rack, several impressive weapons currently mounted on it. Disappointed at the décor, she even once toyed with the idea of putting fake wood paneling on her guns, but when she proposed the idea to Sturges he just laughed her off. Now, everything flickered uniformly in orange and yellow hues under the dying light of an oil lamp, which illuminated the most important thing in the room—Curie, lying peacefully in bed asleep, a book on her chest.

 

Jamie shook her head. Curie had a bad habit of dozing off while reading and they burnt through a lot of lamp oil that way. She still was adjusting to being a synth—sleeping properly being a big hurdle. Jamie could sympathize with her struggle to turn off her mind at night, and there might have been more mornings than she wanted to admit where they both rolled out of bed around noon, having fallen asleep at some ungodly hour. Now, though, Jamie was just tired. As silently as possible she took off her bomber jacket and hung it on a peg next to the door, and then unzipped and unclipped her flightsuit, slowly slipping out of it and letting is pile up at her ankles. She was too tired to bother folding it—she just stepped out of the suit on the floor and walked over to bed, taking Curie's book and putting it on the dresser and then snuffing out the lamp before going around to her side and nestling in under the covers. Curie was just as warm as any human, and Jamie closed her eyes and listened to her smooth breathing—two experiences that always managed to make Jamie feel still.

 

“Mhm...”

 

Curie made a soft noise, stirring a little before sluggishly rolling over, putting her arm around Jamie and nestling her face into the crook of her neck. Her breath tickled Jamie's skin.

 

“My love, you have returned...” Curie said, near a whisper.

 

“Hey, hon, sorry for waking you...” Jamie whispered back, laying her own arm over Curie's.

 

“Ah, worry not... I was just having a dream.” Curie spoke, her words flitting across Jamie's neck.

 

“Tell me about it.”

 

Curie had an endless fascination with dreams—an uncontrolled subconscious was so wholly alien to her, and Jamie was always eager to hear her recount the vivid landscapes she dreampt in the mornings. Curie even had several dream journals filled already—a few were filed away neatly on one of the shelves in the cabin.

 

“Well...” she was still sleepy, and talked slowly, “I was in a field, a big, big field... it was so very green. Then I saw my late beloved Clyde—how happy he was, a molerat in such a big field—and he ran through the field and I chased him. I could feel the tall grasses brush against my legs, it was so clear—and then Clyde came to a stop, and started to burrow. I tried to reach after him, but my arms, they were my _old_ arms—I reached my buzzsaw into his burrow. I was so afraid I would injure him, but I wanted to find him, and I kept digging. After that, I awoke.”

 

“Hmm,” Jamie thought for a moment, “A field? That's new. Have you ever seen a field like that?”

 

“No,” Curie answered, “only in pictures... but it felt so _real_. I am still getting used to these dreams—the ones that feel so very real. When you woke me, I was afraid for a moment that my buzzsaw might injure you, but then Curie realized how very silly that is to think.”

 

“Oh yeah, that can happen. Some other day I'll have to tell you about all the times that's happened to me. Maybe we can start to catalogue that by intensity. I'll help you work out a scale.” Jamie said, beginning to unconsciously rub Curie's arm.

 

“Mmm, yes, I would very much like that. But...” Curie stirred a little, bringing herself closer to Jamie, “tell me, how are you doing? What happened?”

 

Jamie hesitated, Curie's breathing a metronome to her thoughts.

 

“Shh, Curie, just go back to sleep. I shouldn’t have woken you and this can wait.”

 

“Hmm, no,” Curie persisted, “I am fine, and I wish to know if you are fine. Please tell me what has occurred, my love. I know you would wish to discuss such important events most immediately.”

 

Jamie sighed. Curie was right. Her mind had been racing the whole ride back, and even though she was exhausted, she didn't expect to have gotten much sleep anyway.

 

“Alright... you're right again. Thank you Curie... so... I got to talk to Danse... things went smoother with him than I thought they might, but... the Brotherhood doesn't have Nick. I gave them the partial schematics like we discussed, just in case. I just... I'm not sure what do now...”

 

So many awful scenarios hung over her. The time she had spent in the Institute revealed a litany of terrible things they could be doing to Nick, possibly right now, even as they spoke. Jamie had to repress a shudder at the thought of Nick strapped to a reclamation table.

 

“Oh...” Curie's voice lowered, “that is most troubling. All that is left is to search the Institute, no?”

 

“Yeah, but... it's... hmm.” Jamie grasped for the right words, not finding very many.

 

“Complicated, yes? You will have to have much care. Do you think you can ask your son for aid?” Curie suggested.

 

“I... I don't know.”

 

Jamie stared up at the ceiling, the room pitch dark save for some shuttered moonlight pouring in from a window across the room. It didn't give her much to look at—it was just one blank swathe of black.

 

“I want to trust Shaun, but... I've always been hesitant with that. I have no idea who's involved in this or why, and if there are any leads, asking the wrong question could close them, I'm sure.”

 

Curie waited a few beats before speaking, the moment lingering like her warmth on the sheets.

 

“It is true, this does make your investigation more difficult. Perhaps, if you need information, you could keep your circle very, very small. Your Courser friend, if he is as loyal as you say he is, perhaps he could help you, quietly?”

 

“Huh.”

 

The irony of Jamie's escaped gen 3 synth girlfriend recommending that she turn to a Courser for help was something she didn't savor. Yet, Curie still wasn't wrong. Whenever Jamie ran missions for the Institute, she took X6-88 with her. She wanted a witness to her apparent dedication to theInstitute, and made sure to demonstrate as much unwavering loyalty as she could within the confines of basic gen 1 or 2 synth fetching and tech scavenging. She'd even reclaimed a decent amount of gen 3 synths with X6—of course, only those whose profiles she deemed dangerous. Not all synths found a peaceful way to the Railroad or lived a virtuous life after a memory wipe, and at least after a reclamation they'd find a new start that was better than death, and might eventually have a chance for escape. Sometimes the synths would wind up as mercs, raiders, general scum, or _worse_. One time she'd taken a two week journey with X6 down into the Connecticut wasteland to fetch a synth-gone-slaver. It was definitely an... _interesting_ two weeks, but if she'd learned anything, it's that X6 was loyal. After that when she expressed her fondness for X6 to Shaun, he surprised her with a gift—X6 was now her personal Courser, answerable first to her, a privilege she did her best to abuse. A certain baseball game came to mind at the thought, amongst other apparently unspeakable acts of decency she had made sure to show X6.

 

If she needed to, she could probably ask for something hush-hush, but she didn't know how many favors she could eke out of him before arousing any suspicion...

 

“Yeah... yeah, that's not a bad idea, Curie. If I can't snoop out anything personally, I'm sure he'd be useful. I guess all I can do now is see for myself...”

 

“Yes. Well, today _is_ Friday, so you will most certainly get the chance.” Curie reminded.

 

Friday! Friday, how could she forget. 3:00 tea time with Shaun. On the dot. As always.

 

“Oh! Shoot. It is, huh? Well I'm sure I'll have some interesting things to talk about over tea... I guess I really should get some sleep before I head in, right?” Jamie said, her exhaustion more audible than she had realized before.

 

“Mhm, yes, sleep is important for maintaining a keen mind and composure. Is there anything else you wish to talk about before you sleep?” Curie offered, curt, sweet, precise, as usual.

 

“Nah, I think I'm good for now. Thanks, Curie.”

 

“Of course, my love.”

 

Jamie turned her head and rested her forehead on Curie's. Her face, her eyes, her mouth—she could vaguely see their curves in shadow. Even in such little light, Curie was beautiful.She leaned in and their lips met and breaths mixed. Slowly, fully, she eased in the kiss—one firm, solid, tender moment, that ended with their lips just barely apart and tickling one another's, Jamie staring into the dusky abyss of Curie's eyes.

 

“I love you...” Jamie murmured, the words flowing from her as as effortlessly, as natural as the kiss, as sublime and magnificent as the woman whose bed she shared.

 

She could feel Curie's lips curl into a smile, a soft little breath accompanying it.

 

“And I you, as well. Now my love, we must rest.”

 

Curie shifted, resting her head just above Jamie's shoulder and on the pillow, nestling up more comfortably. Jamie felt any tension left ebb out of her, melting away into the bed. She was warm, and safe, and quiet. She gave an affirmative “mhm” before snuggling down as well, sinking into the mattress and Curie's hold. Things were going to be okay, she thought. She hadn't expected to get any sleep that night, but now that possibility seemed so far away. She drifted off, the trickling of the river outside and the last of the fall crickets complementing Curie's breath in her ears as she faded.

 


End file.
